


waste this moment with me

by romanreigning



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AU, Also Delivery Guy Dean, Cookies, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluuuuuuuuuff, Happy Ambreigns For You, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Tired Dean, Tired Roman, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, brief sami, first is such a strange word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:50:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanreigning/pseuds/romanreigning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dean's job is to deliver cookies to people late at night and really, really early in the morning. something new happens one particular night, but dean doesn't mind one bit</p>
            </blockquote>





	waste this moment with me

**Author's Note:**

> title from that kings of leon song waste a moment. not gonna lie it's one a.m here and i'm kind of deliriously tired and i need to stop contributing to the fandom in this state i swear 
> 
> but enjoy friends thanks for clicking on this i love you <3

It's not exactly the grandest job. Or the most orthodox. 

But if Dean gets paid well to deliver fresh, warm cookies to people who can't sleep in the dead of night, he'll do it.

There's a certain joy that he feels when he arrives at their front door and whoever it is opens up and smiles warmly at him. So what if he's tired in the morning? He loves his job. Sometimes people order just to try it, mostly students stressed out and having breakdowns because of school, and then there's regulars who genuinely seem to be nocturnal. He gets to meet to many people.

But tonight, he's not feeling into it. It's not that he's tired. It's not that he's had a bad day, he just doesn't feel like he should. It's only one, he's made a few deliveries, less than usual, but that's fine, because the store is warm and of course, there's cookies there. He loves cookies.

No one else makes any orders for the rest of his shift, so at three he begins to get out of his chair and get ready to go home when one of his coworkers walks up to him, holding a delivery box.

"I thought no orders after three?" he asks in confusion, reading the name on top of it. Roman Reigns. Plain chocolate chip. _Huh, that's a pretty dramatic name._

"I know but I used to go to school with this guy and he always looked so tired during classes. I felt kinda bad for him. Plus, he's already paid," his coworker Sami provides. Dean sighs.

"Fine. I'll drop it off on my way home," he promises, and Sami smiles

"Thanks Dean. See ya."

"See ya."

He feels a little better now knowing that he gets to go home after this, and his eyes feel a little tired as he drives down Roman's street, the street lamps casting an unnatural orange glow that used to scare Dean as a kid.

He pulls up to the house. It looks fairly standard. Definitely a family home, by all the toys strewn across the yard. He wonders if the kids are Roman's. Parents don't usually order, especially older ones, but every now and then he sometimes gets pregnant women trying to satisfy cravings or fathers who want snacks but don't want to share. Sometimes they both come from the same house. Sometimes they order on the same night. Dean loves it when that happens. 

By rule he texts the number the Roman guy left instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, so if he's a student or has kids it doesn't wake anyone else up. He waits, and waits, until finally he ears a click like the door is being unlocked and in the dim glow a man his age steps out from behind the door.

The first thing Dean notices is _tattoo_ , and then _muscles_ , and then _face oh my god face_ , and then . . . extreme exhaustion and dead eyes and expression. Right. He's here to deliver cookies to people in need, not gawk at them, not matter how beautiful . . . gorgeous . . . stunning . . . they are.

"My shift's over but I decided to make an exception," he says, hoping to lighten the mood, almost sing-songing even. There's a small smile on Roman's lips.

"Thanks man," he says, and _wow, that's a nice voice_ Dean thinks as he hands Roman the box of still nice and warm cookies.

"This your first time ordering?' Dean asks simply to prolong the amount of time he can just admire Roman. He can't help himself.

"Yeah, had been thinking about it heaps but it always seemed so silly but then today happened and I just thought, 'fuck it'," Roman says, his voice so tired it's just a deep rumble.

"Bad day?"

Roman nods.

"Same man," Dean says, and even though it's not true, he does still feel like shit, so he may as well pretend that something caused it rather than being sad for no reason. Roman chuckles a little bit, and Dean _knows_ that he just met the guy and he's probably straight _but_ . . .

He thinks he's beautiful. His eyes occasionally catch the light emanating from the street lamp and the orange glow does wonders to make him look inhumanly beautiful, almost god like. Dean can only imagine what he'll look like with his hair down, all wavy and sleek, framing his face perfectly.

So it's three a.m in the morning. They're both tired as shit, and he wants this man's number. Well, he has it already, but that's cheating. He wants it for real.

"Do you, wanna come in?" Roman offers like he's reading Dean's mind and he has to refrain from letting a huge ass smile of joy appear on his face.

"Yeah, sure," he shrugs casually, but inside he's nervous and confident and scared and happy all at the same time. All thoughts of going back to his own home vanish.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my house at like, what is it, three thirty in the morning," Roman admits one they're seated on the floor in his carpeted living room, "so I don't really know what to talk about. I'm just tired as fuck man. I'm tired of being tired."

"This happens a lot to me," Dean smiles slightly. "Some people invite me in and it's just common kindness like 'oh it's cold outside let me make you a hot chocolate' and sometimes people answer the door crying and I get someone to cover for me so I can help them out. Most of the time it's just lonely people who want someone to talk to. I've had some pretty cool conversations like this. It's nice."

Roman smiles warmly. "Guess I'm one of the lonely people?"

"Well you're not lonely now," Dean shrugs. "Are your parents home?"

"Nah, they're out," Roman says, opening up the box of cookies and instantly offering Dean one. He accepts it and shifts closer to Roman, who's leaning against the couch.

"So what do you wanna talk about?"

Two hours pass by in a blur, Dean and Roman talking on and off the entire time, about a whole range of different things. The cookie box lays empty and discarded by their feet. Dean can barely keep his eyes open. The sun is beginning to peek out and brighten the town, prompting birds to begin chirping and singing their songs that would wake Dean up on his days off.

But he hasn't slept the whole night and neither has Roman.

"You sure you can drive home like this?" Roman asks Dean as he yawns, hand coming up to cover his mouth. The sight makes Dean suppress a yawn himself.

"I mean, probably. I can walk if you're that worried," he has to swallow back yet another yawn.

"Maybe you could just stay here till you're rested," Roman offers, and Dean swears he sees his cheeks blush a little. _Is he . . . does he like me too?_ He'd been wondering that the whole time, with the way he'd catch Roman staring at him sometimes and how close they'd ended up sitting together, but denial is something he's good at, because there's no way Roman's interested in him, but-

"Only if you give me your number," Dean blurts out, finally losing the fight to the urge and he yawns, covering his mouth and and closing his eyes helplessly. When he recovers and opens them again, Roman's looking down shyly, his blush even more noticeable. Dean thinks his heart actually stops for a second.

"You already have it though," the comeback is said weakly.

"No, like, officially. Like you actually physicially -fuck, I mean physically give it me. And I'll give you mine," Dean manages out.

A small, happy smile. "Sure, let me find a pen." And Roman's back moments later. He grabs Dean's wrist and writes down his number, and Dean blinks in confusion when instead of letting go Roman uses his grip to gently pull Dean to his feet and start guiding him somewhere.

It turns out to be Roman's bedroom. Dean's not gonna lie, he's never been in someone's bedroom this fast after meeting them, but Roman instantly flops onto the unmade bed and he even has a little soft dog toy that he cuddles in his arms as he pulls the covers over him and Dean's heart melts. This doesn't have to be awkward. They're just going to sleep together. And it doesn't have to mean what everyone usually assumes it means.

Feeling a little more comfortable he slips off his shoes and gently crawls onto the bed himself and slips under the covers as well, instantly relaxing into the softness and the way it smells like Roman, a tiny bit of that nice smelling men's body spray, but not too much, mixed in with his natural smell. But he still turns his back to Roman, not sure where the boundaries lay, but damn if he doesn't want to just wrap his arms around the man and cuddle him until the sun sets. Roman has his back to Dean as well and he shuffles a little closer, pressing their backs together and adding to the building warmth Dean's feeling. 

"You can leave whenever you need to," Roman mutters tiredly, and then there's the sound of shuffling as he tries to find a comfier position. Dean smiles. 

He wants to stay here forever.


End file.
